


With friends like these

by Oddleoo



Series: The World Is Changing [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bruce is not a medical doctor, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter has no self-preservation skills, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, but he tries his best, no beta we die like women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-12-25 12:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18261128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oddleoo/pseuds/Oddleoo
Summary: He balks, staring while the person pants and presses a hand to their stomach. They’re wearing an odd costume- a mix of reds and blues, and white eye lenses that move like that of a bug. There's a purple blot on their abdomen where they’ve got their hand pressed, and it increases in size with each minute that passes.“Uh, I think I need some stitches.”Or, Bruce Banner meets Peter Parker, and he is not a medical doctor.





	With friends like these

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, the civil war happened, though not to the degree that it happened in the movie. The Rouges are still rouge, but spoiler alert, that won't last very long. It's important to note that the events of Thor Ragnarok still happened, save for that little end credits scene. Thanos does not exist here, and nobody's getting snapped for the foreseeable future. 
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!

 

Bruce Banner figured pretty quickly- though he had been gone for just two years- things would be different when he returned to Earth.

  
A lot could change in two years- he's accepted this- and all It took was spending an abundance of years trapped inside the body of a behemoth, completely out of control on a planet called Sakaar where time was relative, to discover this. 

And he’s entirely _thrown_ by how much has changed.

Thor, despite living in space several galaxies away from Earth, knows enough to bring Bruce ~ _sort of_ ~ up to speed. He says the Avengers broke up. That he hasn't been in contact with any of their teammates since Ultron.  
And Bruce trusts Thor, but he doesn’t, for a single second, believe him. He chalks Thor’s words up to serious misinformation and decides that he would find out the truth himself.

Thor claps him on the shoulder- says he has business settling his people somewhere safe, in Norway, but that he would meet up with Bruce as soon as possible. Bruce smiles, nods, and Thor calls over his tall friend with the golden eyes.  
Thor nods, tells Bruce to brace himself, and then he’s flying.

(Traveling via Bifrost, Bruce thinks, is about as terrible as riding a rollercoaster after recently downing a large cup of blueberry Icee. It’s brutal on the nerves.)  
Bruce lands right in the middle of the grassy knoll behind the Avengers tower. Or, what should’ve been the Avengers tower. The building, previously reflecting brilliance and power, is dull, and the space where the old Avengers logo had been is bare, replaced with blocky letters that spell the name ‘OSCORP’. 

It’s not surprising to see the tower had been sold, even if Tony had for a long time referred to the building as his ‘baby’. The man had talked about relocating to a more remote area long before he had actually started building the Avengers compound.  
So that’s where Bruce goes next.

And it’s there that he reunites with Tony, and discovers the truth.  
The Avengers really _we’re_ toast.  
And if it weren’t for the tension in Tony's eyes, and the derisive twist to his lips when Bruce mentioned the others, he would have gone on believing that it was impossible for the Avengers to break up.  
They weren’t a band- they were... not exactly _family_. But they had been some convoluted type of friends. Friends that weren't very attuned with each other- but friends, nonetheless.

  
It's an odd thing, and it’s one of the biggest changes that Bruce can’t seem to wrap his head around. The other is the fact that Wanda Maximoff had become an Avenger, mere days after she messed with his head and assisted Ultron in his plans to destroy humanity. More than that- she had become a valued member of the team.  
Bruce isn’t quite sure how he feels about that; she had made him unwillingly wreak havoc upon innocent people. But, Bruce is beginning to see, that Hulk was kinda like a little kid, and naïve, and would do anything to get to smash some stuff. So maybe that wasn’t the witches fault entirely.  
(A 3rd thing he couldn’t quite wrap his head around- why the hell were there so many new heroes? There are about 3 new bug themed heroes, and a worrying influx of enhanced people just kinda, running amok the streets of New York. Don't get him wrong- he’s pleased that there are more heroes around to help save the city from an unprecedented number of extraterrestrial attacks, but confused. _So_ confused. Just 10 years ago, he thought he was the strangest thing to ever be beheld by Science. But now, there are blind men fighting crime in Hell's Kitchen, and women who can ghost through walls.)

  
So Bruce is adjusting. He reads BuzzFeed articles in his spare time, which is a new low for him. But Buzzfeed keeps him up to date on not only world info, but social info.  
(Apparently, there had been a meme circulating the net for a while, after he disappeared. People posted photos on their social media platforms of dilapidated buildings, or annoying people, and captioned them, ‘if only Hulk were here, #foreversmashinginourhearts. Bruce is amused.)

Bruce works when he can’t sleep, and he can’t sleep often. (Too often, he dreams of space. Roaring crowds. Bone crunching bone.)

He sets himself in one of the compound's medical rooms and reads up on medical procedures he will probably never perform.  
Tony comes around sometimes and brings him coffee.  
And despite everything- the breaking of the team, Ross forever breathing down his back, the scars left by Steve Rogers hands, Rhodey’s permanent paralysis- he seems... okay.  
Which is strange. Tony was pretty great at hiding his emotions, but Bruce was better at reading people.  
And Tony was really, honest-to-god, _okay_.  
Bruce figures it’s because of Pepper- they're finally engaged after all.  
But- Tony gets calls sometimes, and they are very obviously _not_ Pepper, because Tony does not call Pepper, ‘squirt’ or ‘kid’, or wax poetic about the importance of a good night’s rest.

It’s just another thing to add to the list of things Bruce is confused by, put right underneath the question of why, after two years, a cure for the common cold still hasn't been developed.

It isn’t until late, on a Tuesday night, while Bruce leaves through Grey's Anatomy with tired eyes (because he’s not a medical doctor, but he’s still interested) and some guy in red spandex barrels into the medical room with blood blotting the area over their abdomen, that Bruce puts it all together.  
He balks, staring while the person pants and presses a hand to their stomach. They’re wearing an odd costume- a mix of reds and blues, and white eye lenses that move like that of a bug. There's a purple blot on their abdomen where they’ve got their hand pressed, and it increases in size with each minute that passes.  
“Uh, I think I need some stitches.”  
He’s thrown for a loop again because that voice was _not_ the voice of an adult. That was the voice of someone who still spent half their day roaming the halls of their high-school, playing video-games in their spare time.  
A _kid_. 

There's a damn _kid_ bleeding in front of him. 

“Are you alright? What the hell happened?”  
The boy kinda laughs- but it’s flat, “I think I kinda got stabbed.”  
Bruce stares.  
“Kinda?”  
The boy nods, “I mean, the knife was small. One of those dollar store pocket knives, you know?”  
Bruce stares and stares, and he doesn't really know what else to do.  
“Uh, sir, you are a doctor right? I mean, I came here without telling Mr. Stark first because, I mean, I’m probably fine. I didn’t wanna worry him for a dumb flesh wound, you know? I stitched myself up before- I could probably do it again...” the boys pauses, “Unless you’re a doctor and you can stitch me up. That'd be real cool. You’ll do a way better job than I ever could. May's sewing lessons can only take you so far.”  
Bruce feels like he’s got whiplash. Because this kid _knows_ Tony- enough to not want to worry him. Not to mention the fact that he's been stabbed and seems completely unfazed by the fact.

Still, the kid is bleeding, and Bruce may not be a medical doctor, but he’s got enough PhDs to be able to stitch together a small knife wound.  
Bruce nods and turns to the cabinets to find a med kit.  
The kid settles himself on the bed, never removing his hands from his stomach.  
“It’s good that you’re here. I suck at stitching. Turns out, stitching wounds is a lot harder than sewing clothes. Not that I'm good at sewing clothes.”  
Bruce finds the Medkit and turns with his eyes twitching.  
He's not angry- or at least, not anymore angry than normal- but he is concerned, and worry was an emotion that he couldn't very often keep under wraps.

“You’ve done this before?”  
The boy shrugs and winces when it jostles his wound.  
“Only once. I had my friend Ned to help me then-“ he gets a sort of frightened look in his eyes before his whips his head up- “Don’t tell Mr. Stark I said that. He’s gonna lose his head if he finds out I tried to stitch myself up. Then he’s gonna tell my Aunt, and then she’s gonna _kill_ me.”  
Bruce threads the black Nylon string through the needle's head, and just nods even though he's not sure if he _can_ promise. This seems like something Tony would like to know about.  
“Thanks... Uh...?”  
The boy gives Bruce a look- something halfway between recognition and confusion.  
Bruce sighs, ties the thread around the needle, before giving the boy a weak smile.  
“Bruce.”  
And then the boy's odd white lenses grow two sizes, and he gasps.  
“Holy shit you’re Bruce Ba-“

The door to the medical room slams open.  
Both Bruce and the boy look over.  
“Aw _crap_.”  
“Aw crap indeed. What do you think you’re pulling here, huh? Hiding your injuries and getting Bruce over here in on it?”  
The boy shrinks- winces when his wound in aggravated.  
Something flickers in the man’s eyes- something Bruce doesn’t see very often at all- and Tony Stark walks over and looks at the kid’s wound himself.  
“How bad is it?”  
“It’s not bad at-“  
“Zip it. I wasn’t asking you-“ he turns to Bruce- “How bad is it?”

If Bruce had actually seen the wound, he would’ve been able to give a solid answer, but all he had to go off of was the boy's nonchalance and the fact that he hadn’t yet lost consciousness due to blood loss.  
“Well, it _is_ a stab wound. But it’s not deep. Probably superficial. Nothing to worry about.”  
Tony sighs, clapping Bruce on the shoulder, and says,“Great” at the same time that the boy says, “I told you so.”

Tony turns to the red-clad boy and levels him with a look.  
“How’d you manage to get yourself stabbed again?"  
('Again', he says, with about as much apprehension as one might have when talking about someone dropping a glass.)  
“It’s kinda a long story. But, Mr. Stark, I _saved_ an old lady. I think I deserve some praise for that.”  
“You’ll get your praise and your sentence when you’re no longer bleeding.”  
“My sentence?”  
Tony nods and takes a seat on Bruce’s spinny chair.

“Aunt Hottie and I have to deliberate, but I’m thinking 2 weeks grounding. Patrol limited to 3 hours while you think about what you’ve done.”                                                   The kid makes another squawking sound, though it’s swallowed up by yet another wince, and Bruce had been too struck by the exchange happening before him to realize that the kid was still very much stabbed, and very obviously still bleeding.

“Uh, are you two done yet? I kinda have some stitching to do.”

Tony nods, “Go on, Brucie. I’m staying right here.”  
Bruce swallows and approaches the boy with the needle and thread.  
The boy stiffens.  
“You alright?”

The white lenses blink 3 times before the boy stutters out, “Y-yeah, I’m fine. I just... don’t really like needles.”  
Bruce frowns, and moves the needle away from the boy’s periphery.  
“We can give you some drugs?”  
Tony snorts, “If only it was that easy. Spider-Boy here has a faster metabolism than even Cap. Drugs, unfortunately, have no effect on him.”  
Bruce balks. The metabolism of Steve Rogers was not something so easily rivaled. The fact that the kid, as scrawny and young as he was, had a metabolism that surpassed one of the strongest of their team, was doubtful- but not impossible.

Bruce figures, the times really were changing, and this next generation of enhanced superheroes would surely breed only the finest chaos.

The boy shakes once, a chill running through his bones as he eyes the needle with all the fear he hadn’t felt for the pocket-knife.  
Bruce sighs, “You’ll be alright. Just lay down- I guess some lidocaine cream should do the trick.”  
The boy lays down while Bruce turns to the cabinet and searches for the cream.  
“Man, this sucks _so_ bad. And I was at 11 days too. Ned is gonna be so mad.”  
“Kid, everyone and their mother knew you weren’t gonna keep that streak up. Your Parker-luck would’ve screwed you over well before you made it to 13 days.”  
The boy sighs, “You’re right- but Ned said if I got to 13 days without injury he’d buy my ticket to Comi-Con.”  
Tony goes silent for a moment- Bruce spots the tube of topical numbing cream and turns with it, and the needle and thread in hand.

(He’s baffled still, by the nonchalance in the boy's voice. He can’t be any older than 18- evident from his voice alone.  
Further still, Tony seems okay with it all. He’s still got that worry in his eyes- something always found hidden under the many layers of machismo that Bruce is easily able to see through- but he’s otherwise unaffected.  
Clearly, this is a common thing. Bruce is... he doesn’t know what he is. _Confused_ , for starters, and then some.)

“Peter, you know I’m a billionaire, right? I could buy your whole class tickets to Comic-Con-“ he pauses, smiles- “I could damn well buy Comic-Con.  
“That isn’t the point, Mr. Stark. It’s the thought that counts.”  
Bruce walks over with the needle pressed between his two fingers, lips pursed.  
The boy- _Peter_ -frowns once again at the sight of the tiny thing.

Still, he lies down and presses his lips together, humming a low tune Bruce vaguely recognizes. Tony stands and plants himself beside the boy- puts a hand on his shoulder and keeps it there.

Bruce applies the lidocaine cream.  
Peter’s lenses go wide before they shrink down to slits, and he squeaks.  
Tony frowns, and he and Bruce exchange a look.  
“Bruce, why don’t you talk to the kid about some chemistry shit. He loves that kind of stuff.”  
The boy’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh my god- I read your entire paper on particle physics. Your theory of subatomic particles is crazy- but also apparently not much of a theory anymore...”  
Bruce sticks the needle into the boy’s skin. He doesn’t react.  
“What do you mean it’s 'not much of a theory anymore'?”  
Tony laughs, and Peter’s big eye lenses go wide.  
“You know- Hank Pym and The Ant-man? You haven’t met him?”  
“Pete, he just came back like, 6 days ago. He just found out who the President is yesterday.”  
Peter winces, “Right. Uh, sorry.”

Bruce smiles, “It’s fine. Space isn’t so bad if you’re there with a few gods.”  
Trash planet and uncontrolled mass murder aside, he thinks, but does not say.

Peter must’ve been grinning behind the mask because his voice is guileless when he speaks next.  
“You were in space with Thor? That's so cool.”  
Tony throws up his hands, “I’ve met Thor!”  
The boy shrugs about as well as he can while lying down, with Bruce sewing up his skin.  
“Yea but have you been in _space_ with _Thor_? Bruce is like, 2 times cooler than you now just because of that.”  
Bruce grins.

(He thinks, dimly, about the few times he’d taken the subway, before his disappearance. Dressed, as himself, in neutral sweaters and slacks, his presence was still a catalyst of fear for most. Even as a civilian, he inspired fear in others.

But never children.

Little girls in tutus would tug at his sleeves and ask him if he truly was the Hulk. Their parents maybe told them so, and Bruce never denied it, because the news was always well-received with children. They’d call him cool- thank him with dimply grins. The older ones would ask for pictures, and the boys would ask to shake his hand.  
It's one reason why Bruce likes kids so much- they're never afraid of him.  
The boy was not afraid of him- and this was quite the esteemed compliment, coming from a kid who seemed the like poster-child for primordial kindness.)

Tony is maybe a little indignant, but he must've seen Bruce smiling, because then he's simpering, with a slight twist to his lips.  
“Alright kid. Bruce can win this round. But I’m still the funnest Avenger.”  
Peter snorts, “Of course, Mr. Stark. The funnest.”

Bruce ties off the thread.  
It's not the greatest stitching he’s ever seen- maybe fit for a old woman only just recently exploring her sewing expertise- but it’s decent, and Peter seems happy with the result.  
He calls himself Frankenstein and Tony comments that he should get used to the nickname- assuming that this won’t be the last time he’d need stitches for a small wound.  
Tony inevitably dials up his old bodyguard- Happy Hogan- and tells the man he ought to take the Spider-kid home. There’s some protest on the other end- it is quite late- but it stops once Tony suggests he take Peter there instead and flirt with the boy’s Aunt.

Peter is gone- left with a slight hug from Tony, and an even slighter smile from Bruce- within the next 10 minutes.  
Bruce does not miss Tony’s insistence that he walk the boy down to the car lot- and the way the boy is always looking at the man with this sort of amazed look in his eyes.  
Bruce never got to see his face- though he supposes it’s for the best. The boy’s voice was distinctive enough anyway, that it’d probably be easy to discern him as a civilian otherwise.

Bruce packs the medical supplies away- disposes of the red-tinged gauze pads, and his blue latex gloves.  
Tony re-enters the room with his hands in his pockets and his lips pursed.  
“Kid's on his way home and says his stitches are holding up fine. A few more cracks at it and you might just qualify for a career in tailoring.”  
Bruce nods, electing to ignore the man's crack at his shoddy stitching, “If he’s got a healing factor as good as Cap’s he’ll need them removed soon.”  
“Is it safe to assume that you’ll be the one to do it?”  
Bruce turns to the man.

It's something of a comfort, that despite having been gone, wiped off the face of the Earth for some 2 years, Tony still trusts him and considers him a friend at all.  
Trust was something very rarely considered by the man, but when he did, it was to be regarded as a compliment of the highest form.  
Bruce smiles, “Of course, Tony. What else do I have to do with my time anyway?”  
Tony walks over and drapes an arm over his shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll find something worth your while. Ever considered magic? You’ve got the whole disappearing act down to a Science.”

Bruce sighs, "I'm sorry I disappeared. Hulk wasn't too keen on sticking around after Johannesburg."

Tony shakes his head, "It's water under the bridge. Things would've still happened the way they did if you were here."

Bruce wants to believe him, but there's a ceaseless nagging at the back of his mind, saying maybe they wouldn't been different if he'd just been there. He was good at being a mediator- often keep the team from falling apart, both literally and metaphorically. 

Bruce nods, settling himself back onto his spinny chair.  
Tony turns to leave- but swivels back on his heel and gives Bruce a puzzled look.  
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked about the kid yet. I sincerely hope you didn't treat kid's in spandex often during your space escapades.”  
Bruce rolls his eyes, folding his hands together on his lap, “Tony, you’ve done much weirder things than taking in a child superhero. This is one of the lesser weird things you’ve done.”  
Tony shrugs, “I’ll give you that but still- you’re not even a teensy bit shocked?”  
Bruce considers for a moment, pulling his lips between his teeth.  
He shrugs, “You always had a bit of a fatherly air to you.”  
Tony lets out a squawking sound.

“Me? Fatherly? Did someone mind-whammy you up in space? Should I be concerned?”  
Bruce sighs. Tony had never been the greatest, in terms of emotional expression- still intent on denying the fact that he was a genuinely good person.  
“Tony, you’ve been treating your bots like your kids since you were a teenager. The dad instinct is practically ingrained in you.”  
Tony snorts- waves his hand around dismissively.  
“Agree to disagree.”

Bruce sighs, but concedes.  
Tony’s makes to leave the room, but a thought weasels it’s way into Bruce's head.  
“Wait- I gotta ask. My theory on particle physics- it’s not theoretical?”  
Tony laughs, “It hasn’t been theoretical for years, my dear. Wait till you meet Scott Lang.”

 


End file.
